


mouth wide open

by mitchenthusiast



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: Biting, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, but someone has to be the messy one and i guess it's me, i'm sorry for always making mitjo do weird shit, joey is real thirsty for mitch, mitch has big meaty claws and joey nuts, oh man HERE WE GO, please someone get joey laid such a large amount of lust cannot be contained in his tiny body, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 05:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11120457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitchenthusiast/pseuds/mitchenthusiast
Summary: There are things that Jonas wants.(or, mitch smacks joeys ass this one time and joey literally cannot stop thinking about it)





	mouth wide open

**Author's Note:**

> fair warning nothing actually happens between Thos Boys in this its just joey jerkin his gherkin if you're picking up what i'm putting down

Jonas doesn't know why he's doing this.

Well, he knows why he's doing part of this. The part where he gets himself off is perfectly normal. It's what any eighteen year old boy would do upon finding themself alone in their house, especially when an empty house is as rare as it is for Jonas. That part of this routine of his is fine. However, he's pretty sure that when most people masturbate, they aren't envisioning long, pale fingers pulling at their hair. When they stroke themselves, they aren't imagining hot, heavy breath on the back of their neck, about a cruel brush of teeth, drawing out the anticipation that comes before they bite down and sink in like quiet knives. Jonas is certain that when most people get off, they're not thinking about someone that's been bullying them for most of their life. Most people don't get hard when they think about Mitch  _freaking_  Mueller.

It has to be some kind of weird psychological thing, Jonas thinks. Some kind of defence mechanism in response to all the years he's been bullied by Mitch, one that gives him a boner whenever he imagines his long, lanky body towering over him instead of causing him to immediately drop dead from a panic-induced heart attack. Or maybe it's just his body getting confused whenever his blood starts to pound, mistaking his fear-driven adrenaline for a rush of a different kind. Or maybe it's because he associates Mitch with how  _close_ he always seems to be getting to Jonas, always seems to be getting in his space, slinging a wiry arm around his shoulders when they walk together, ruffling his hair briefly to distract him when he walks past, crowding him up against lockers and grabbing his wrists with bony fingers as he leans in close and sneers. Jonas is sure it's an accident, his mind playing tricks on him, that makes him wish that Mitch would grip tighter on his wrists and leave marks like drops of rain, give his hair a hard tug, lean in further when he's teasing him and kiss his mouth, hard and full of teeth. Jonas is just touch-starved, is all, and now he's developed a Pavlovian response to the sound of his name in Mitch's mouth, one that makes him ache when he thinks of his hands, wide-palmed and long-fingered, one that makes him wonder what they'd feel like on his bare skin.

Whatever's going on in his brain, it's only gotten worse in the past week. It started, oddly enough, midway through a rare conversation with Carmen, of all things. He'd been so distracted by her telling him about the homework she needed to get done that he didn't even notice the sound of footsteps behind him, didn't even register the way her voice began to trail off as she caught a glance of something just over his shoulder, eyes narrowing and brows raising in confusion. He didn't notice anything was amiss right up until he spotted a shadow falling across his body, just a moment too late to do anything before a loud, resounding  _crack_  echoed seemingly from nowhere, followed immediately by the sound of himself making a sound somewhere between a squeak and a whimper as a sudden pain spread across his ass.

"Hey, Spots. Need to talk to you." Mitch's voice came from somewhere, although Jonas barely even heard it, thoughts still pinwheeling in confusion as the pain started to fade. The hit wasn't really that hard, but the feeling of Mitch's broad palm smacking against his ass lingered in his mind as Mitch grabbed his shoulders and steered him away from Carmen, who stood, staring at them, her mouth hanging slightly open in confusion, looking like she’d just seen a dog speak.

Jonas hopes whatever Mitch needed to talk about wasn't important, because he heard absolutely none of it. He just nodded as Mitch talked, desperately hoping that if he moved his head enough he could distract Mitch from looking at anything below his shoulders, then ran at the first opportunity he had. He ducked into a bathroom stall and stared at the back of the door, reading the same line of graffiti (the one that said 'Shrek 2 was ok') over and over until his erection went away. He told himself that the boner he'd gotten at Mitch's touch was just random and poorly timed, and the resulting loss of brain function had been from shock, and not from anything else. He told himself that it had been an accident, a one-off event, and something that he would never think of again, under any circumstances.

He went home that night and jacked off until his dick felt raw, two fingers shoved deep inside of himself and his lower lip swollen and cherry-red from his teeth worrying at it, barely holding back his whines, the feeling of Mitch's long fingers against his ass playing on repeat in his brain.  _Never again_. He thought to himself in the aftermath, breathless and sweaty, stomach streaked with come and hole aching, sore and empty.  _I'm never doing this again. Not while thinking about Mitch freaking Mueller._

He's done it nearly every night this week, with Mitch as a prominent feature in his fantasies every time, leering at him distantly as he bites deep craters into his own knuckles and tries not to make a sound.

He's on his knees now, leaning forward on his elbows, slowly rocking his hips as he ruts his dick against his sheets. In his mind he hears Mitch's laugh behind him, his stupid, hoarse laugh that starts in a wheeze and ends in a grunt, almost, hears it as he runs his hands up Jonas’ ribs and toward his chest, playing with his nipples as he rubs his cock on the meat of his ass. His own fingers aren't as long as the ones he's imagining, but they still feel good when he grabs a nipple between them and rolls, shivering all over as he imagines Mitch's gross, wet tongue on the shell of his ear, imagines his long limbs curling over his body as he presses his chest to Jonas’ back, like a snake coiling around its prey.

Would Mitch talk during sex? Jonas imagines he would. Maybe he would tell Jonas how cute it was that he was shaking, cooing at him saccharine and sarcastic as he wound his arms around him, pulled his back tight against his chest, made him throw his head back and moan. Maybe Mitch would laugh as Jonas writhed in his grasp, reach down and give his twitching cock a tug before letting it go again, aching for contact it wouldn't receive. Maybe, when Jonas thrust his hips to try and chase his fingers, he would huff out a long breath of disapproval and tell him not to be so  _desperate_  for it, unwind one of his hands from around his body and give him a hard smack on his ass.

Jonas can't hold back the moan that slips from him at the thought. He takes a moment to think about how glad he is that he's home alone before finally taking his cock in his hand and stroking it, whining as he imagines Mitch's eyes on him, watching him get himself off. He gets louder when he imagines Mitch pulling his hand off himself and replacing it with his own, larger one, other hand palming Jonas' ass, grabbing at his skin right where the slap would still be stinging. Would Mitch slap him again if he moaned, whisper "Be  _quiet_ " low and mean in his ear, bite at the back of his neck and suck hard until he trailed off into a breathy gasp? Or maybe he would like it if Jonas was loud, squeeze harder at his cock to hear the way it would make him squeak, grab at the side of his head and pull him into a kiss, all sharp teeth and sly tongue as he slid his hand down below Jonas' balls and rubbed at his hole with a single, lube-slick finger.

Jonas is pressing one of his fingers inside himself now, not as thick as the ones he'd like to feel but enough to stretch him, enough to hurt. His teeth worry at his lower lip as he squeezes down on his finger, imagines how it would feel if it was Mitch's, how it would feel to have him towering behind him like a vengeful God, opening him up slow and teasing. Where would Mitch's other hand be? Maybe it would be on Jonas' hip, holding him steady, positioned to reach over and give him a tap on the ass if he squirmed too hard, warning him that it would be harder if he didn't keep still. Perhaps he would have his hand over his mouth instead, sneer when Jonas' mouth opened and took his fingers inside, ran his tongue across them sloppily as he panted at the feeling of Mitch's other hand working at his hole.

"Fuck, Spots." He hears Mitch say, feels his hot breath on his neck. "If I'd known you wanted to suck something so bad, I would've given you my dick."

Jonas enjoys the possibility of having Mitch's dick in his mouth, being able to drag moans out of him, feel his fingers tangle in his hair and pull him down, but sucking Mitch off is a fantasy for another time. Right now, what Jonas wants to think about is Mitch filling his hole, grabbing at his ass with his wide, mean hands, enveloping his body and pressing kisses to the back of his neck. 

It's probably too early for Jonas to be adding another finger, but he does it anyway, shoving in rough and slick as he thinks of Mitch's teeth working at the side of his neck. Mitch seems like he'd like to bite, like to leave marks high up on Jonas' neck where his shirt couldn't cover them, make him walk around for days with his throat tender and purple for everyone to see. Mitch seems like he'd be possessive, pull him into closets and bathroom stalls and kiss him senseless if he wanted attention, give him fingerprints and bite marks and press on them when no one was looking. Maybe he'd let Jonas give them back, too, pull him into his lap and stroke at his hair as he pressed his clumsy mouth to Mitch's collarbone, make encouraging little moans and grunts as Jonas worked a wonky set of bites across his shoulder, forming a lopsided galaxy as he ground his ass on Mitch's dick. Jonas sighs as he scissors his fingers, works himself open faster than he probably should. If Mitch were there he'd probably give his ass another spank, slow him down, make him wait for it, plead for it. Mitch would make him beg, Jonas is sure of it, get off on his pathetic little cries of  _please, Mitch_ , take pride in getting him too fucked out to speak without even putting his cock in him.

"Y'need it bad, don't you Spots?" Mitch would tease, and Jonas would whine back to him, push down on his fingers and feel his eyes close as Mitch stroked at the skin of his hip.

Jonas is too impatient for a third finger, wants his fantasy to progress rather than wait any longer. He reaches underneath his mattress, gropes blindly around until his hand closes around what he's looking for, feels silicone in his fingers as he pulls it from its hiding place and onto his bed.

The dildo is an ugly thing. Lewis got it for him for his eighteenth birthday as a joke, because it was apparently hilarious to watch him go scarlet when he unwrapped it and realized what it was. Poor Madison still hasn't recovered from seeing it. It's not particularly big, but it is a hideous neon pink that really should have been left in the 80s. Jonas had shoved it back in the box that it had come in and swore to burn it the moment he got home, but ended up shoving it under his mattress and forgetting about it for months, right up until Mitch came back to town and started giving Jonas weird, inappropriate boners. To his dismay, he's found himself using it far more than he should, and far more than Lewis probably expected him to.

Gross. Jonas  _really_ doesn't want to be thinking about Lewis right now.

Instead, he slicks the dildo up with lube and reaches down, pressing it into himself slowly, action accompanied by a long hiss leaving his mouth. He probably should have stretched himself out more, but he likes it better this way, likes how it makes everything feel so much bigger, how he imagines Mitch would be. Mitch would get both of his hands and trap them behind his back, push into his ass steady and deliberate, make him feel every inch of his dick sliding inside of him.  "Spread 'em." He would say, nudging Jonas’ thighs apart with a bony knee as he pressed in further, and Jonas would comply, opening his thighs to let Mitch between them. Jonas whimpers when he gets the dildo all the way inside of him, to its flared base, and holds it there, imagining the feel of Mitch's hips pressed against his ass, hands grabbing Jonas’ hips to pull them close, connect them.

"Nice." Mitch might say, if he was in a particularly generous mood, and reward Jonas with a hard slap on his ass.

Jonas pulls the dildo out and thrusts it back in again, knocking a wheeze out of himself as his cock jumps. Mitch would probably find that hilarious, would probably do it again, harder, yank Jonas’ head to the side by his hair and watch his eyes slam shut and his mouth drop open. Jonas fucks himself hard, probably too hard, but it feels so good that he can't help but keep at it, can't help but keep thinking of Mitch pounding into him. His head hangs low between his shoulders as he drives the dildo into him, too short and too artificial to be anywhere near as good as Mitch would be but enough to satisfy him as he lets himself imagine long, pale fingers marking up his hips, his thighs, the flesh of his ass. As he fucks himself, he grabs at his cock, jerks it, and thinks of Mitch watching him do it, maybe even wrapping a hand of his own around Jonas’ to help him through it, to try and get him off too.

" _God._ " he hears Mitch's voice in his mind, caught between heavy, panting breaths. "Taking me so fucking good, Spots. So hard for me, aren't you?" Jonas reaches up to stroke his thumb across his nipple, gives it a tug, like he’s being punished for something. He remembers how it felt when Mitch smacked his ass, and he shivers, replays it over and over in his mind as he drives the dildo into himself, like it's Mitch raining slaps down onto his ass as he fucks him. He bites his lip hard when he gets the angle right, hits his prostate dead on and feels like he’s melting, he’s so close to coming, stroking his dick and panting and thinking about how he needs _more_ , needs-

"So good, Spots." His hole squeezes hard on the dildo at that thought, and he wonders where in his mind  _this_ is coming from. "So good for me."

It's the thought of Mitch actually  _complimenting_ him that does it, makes him choke on his moan and tighten up, makes him come hard across his stomach like a star exploding. He shakes, barely holding himself up on his knees and elbows as he rides it out, and when the last fat streak of come spurts from his dick he tumbles, flops onto his side and gasps like he's breathing his last breaths. He slides the dildo out of his aching hole and takes a moment to just  _think_ , just collect himself and prepare for when he comes down from his high, when the shame and embarrassment starts to set in at just how weird the stuff he jerks off to is. He remembers the days when he used to just think about kissing Carmen, and  _maybe_ touching her boob. Not being yelled at and spanked by someone who's been bullying him for at least three years.

Then again, what made him come this time wasn't anything he usually imagined. Every time he's done this, Mitch has been cold, impersonal, there to fuck him and tease him and get him off, make him beg and whine. Never to tell him he was  _good_. Never to be  _kind_. 

It's strange, but it doesn't matter now. This is the last time he's doing this, Jonas tells himself sternly. This is the last time he's jacking off to the thought of Mitch  _freaking_ Mueller. 

 _Never again._ He thinks to himself, and pretends that he means it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> and then they get together and actually fuck and joey finds out that mitch is actually super gentle/sweet w him bc he loves him and wants to treat him right and they just fuck normally instead of doing the weird ass shit that i write porn about  
> sorry that this is just joey crankin his hog w no actual mitjo content... i have sth cookin now tho thats longer and plottier than the tiny ass fics ive been dropping so far so get hype if you love bad content  
> fic brought to you by mitch's yaoi hands. fic also brought to you by my own mental image of mitch getting jealous after seeing joey talking to carmen and choosing to greet him by walking up behind him and giving him a surprise smack on the ass. fic also brought to you by cupcakKe's entire discography, with the title being brought to you by deepthroat in particular.  
> 


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